


Memories in Mixtapes

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Episode: s12e19 The Future, First Kiss, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, I Can't Believe This Is Canon, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mixtape, Music, Zeppelin references, but also fluffy, coda-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Oh, well…” Cas takes his time trying to find the proper words. He knows this is still new to Cas, pop culture. Or, in this case, rock culture. Sure, he has it all compartmentalized in that angel head of his, thanks to Metatron, but he hasn’t ever really thumbed through those archives. Dean’s just popping one in the stereo before it collects dust. “I think it’s a sad state of affairs.”“Why’s that?”“Well, the narrator sings passionately of this person they love so much, they may lose their sanity,” Cas says. “And that line about the opening and closing of  a front and back door: It’s a metaphor for trust. He opens himself to this person, emotionally speaking, and they deceive him.”





	Memories in Mixtapes

**Author's Note:**

> I had to know the backstory for the mixtape (“Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx”) because what???!!, so I wrote one.

 

 

Dean made something for Cas.

It doesn't sound like a big deal, but this is the same guy who bought his brother skin mags and shaving cream from a gas station, wrapped them in months' old newspaper he found on the floorboard of his Chevy's backseat, and gave them to him as Christmas presents.

And worst of all, Cas rejected it. Spit it back like a cassette player unraveling the tape until it was nothing but a black, frayed, leftover nerve skeleton pooling out of the plastic.

But perhaps, the worst thing is that the tape is still intact. Mint condition, in fact. Hardly used. Perfect description to sell it on eBay.

But Dean doesn't want a stranger's money. Dean wants a man turning stranger's love and appreciation. He wants to feel valued. He wants to feel like he's worth more than the loose change in his pocket sometimes.

Sure, Cas could've just been his usual, oddball self and not recognized it as a gift—a gesture of Dean's own love and appreciation, but he’s more cultured now. He's aware of human thoughts, behaviors, feelings...

Or maybe that's what Dean would've liked to think when he gave him the tape.

Maybe Dean’s thoughts, his behaviors, his feelings, weren't amplified enough.

Or perhaps, like the tape, he's outdated. Expired. Old news.

Replaceable.

 

3 Weeks Earlier

 

**_“I said you had the nerve to tell me_ **

**_You didn't want me no more, yeah_ **

**_I open my front door, hear my back door slam.”_ **

_“I mean, it’s—”_

_“Shh, let the music speak for itself,” Dean says, putting his fingers to his lips like a stereotypical librarian. After twenty one years, as long as it took him to go from hitting the cradle to the bottle, he’s become so familiar with driving; he could do it with one hand if he wanted to. Not like he has anywhere he wants to put his free hand._

_Well, okay, maybe he’d like to put his hand over Cas’s, but his mind’s too preoccupied with the vast open road stretched before him like a dusty chalkboard. He likes to think of the white road markers as his guide so he doesn’t use Baby as a pencil and go too swoopy with the skid marks he’s prone to leaving behind._

**_“Ah, yeah, it makes a drag_ **

**_Baby, since I've been loving you_ **

**_I'm about to lose_ **

**_I'm about to lose, lose my worried mind_ **

**_Just one more, just one more, oh yeah_ **

**_Since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.”_ **

_“So, any thoughts?” Dean asks, pausing the tape._

_Cas furrows his brows. “You told me to let the music speak for itself.”_

_“Well, technically speaking, it_ has _spoken.”_

_“Oh, well…” Cas takes his time trying to find the proper words. He knows this is still new to Cas, pop culture. Or, in this case, rock culture. Sure, he has it all compartmentalized in that angel head of his, thanks to Metatron, but he hasn’t ever really thumbed through those archives. Dean’s just popping one in the stereo before it collects dust. “I think it’s a sad state of affairs.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“Well, the narrator sings passionately of this person they love so much, they may lose their sanity,” Cas says. “And that line about the opening and closing of  a front and back door: It’s a metaphor for trust. He opens himself to this person, emotionally speaking, and they deceive him.”_

_Dean nods. “Sure. But that’s the beauty of the song. Since he’s been in love, he’s determined, more assured in what he wants. There’s only two internal forces in the world that can do that. One burns through the world, the other puts out the fire. But sometimes, love_ is _the fire. No matter how much it may scorch, you’re inevitably drawn to the warmth.”_

_“Huh.”_

_“What?”_

_“I never knew you were a romantic,” Cas muses with a laugh. “So, am I wrong? In my interpretation, I mean.”_

_Dean chances a look at his best friend, but it’s fleeting, just like the bob of his Adam’s apple. “No. No, that’s why it’s an interpretation. You have your way of seeing it, I have mine.” Dean doesn’t let that statement breathe too long, however, like the weeds poking through the asphalt they’re speeding down. He presses play on the tape again and turns up the volume. “Now, hear this.”_

_It’s a wicked track, one of Dean’s top 5 on the tape for the guitar solo alone, but Cas has little reaction until the second verse, just before the final repeat of the chorus. He wags his finger at the stereo and exclaims, “That! Right there.”_

**_“Try to love you baby, but you push me away_ **

**_Don't know where you're goin'_ **

**_Only know just where you've been_ **

**_Sweet little baby, I want you again.”_ **

_Dean hits pause on the stereo again. “What?”_

_“Seriously?” Cas scoffs. “He sings about it again, how this person, this ‘baby’, pushes him away.”_

_“But he still wants her. He’s still trying because of the same love he has for her.”_

_“What’s_ his _story, though?” Cas retorts. “Why does his lover push him away? There has to be a good reason.”_

_Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel as they roll into the next track._

**_“Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light_ **

**_To chase a feather in the wind_ **

**_Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight_ **

**_There moves a thread that has no end.”_ **

_The song filters through the stuffiness from the silence inside the car until the last line: **“I get a little bit lonely.”**_

_The only commentary Cas has for that is a small “Oh”._

**

_“I enjoyed that lemon song,” Cas says, closing the passenger door._

_Dean just shakes his head with a laugh, “Course you did.”_

_“Did you know that song is about—?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Cas tilts his head. “Okay. I just still don’t understand what metaphor the lemon serves.”_

_“This one is_ not _up for discussion,” Dean sterns._

_“But I don’t get it,” Cas continues through Dean’s exasperated sigh, “I mean, I get it, but it’s confusing. Lemons are used primarily for lemonade—well, before all of the artificial sweeteners, which completely defeats the purpose of the lemon for its taste…”_

_“Cas, no.”_

_Cas, dissatisfied with that response, purses his lips a little. But then his attention is diverted to his surroundings, which is nothing but fields of long-since dried up and abandoned wheat guarding a rundown barn house in the thick of the night. The wind sends the loose panels on the roof dancing a brash rhythm, causing them both to jump a little. “Where are we?” he asks._

_Dean closes the driver door and meets Cas’s eyes over the car as he says, “Pontiac, Illinois.”_

_*_

_Cas takes a tentative step forward, like the creaky, wooden floorboard below them will swallow him if he dares move—a stark contrast from the first time Cas entered the barn, all thunder and lightning and sparks literally flying around them. It’s a cold reminder to Dean of how much they’ve both lost, including each other at times._

_“You can come closer,” Dean encourages from where he’s standing, eight years ago with a shotgun, now with open arms._

_“Dean, I still don’t see what we’re doing here.”_

_“You will,” Dean promises. “Just a few more steps.”_

_Cas takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he takes a heartier step. Dean feels his heart inflate with every one he takes towards him. That’s the amazing thing Dean’s noticed over the years: Cas doesn’t even have to breathe into him for Dean to feel like he’s floating._

_And when he’s gone… God. He does everything to try and pinch as much of that oxygen as he can, but always ends up bouncing off the walls._

_Once Cas is within arms’ reach, Dean carefully reaches for his hand. “Is this okay?”_

_Cas looks up, blue eyes wide and unmoving, like the ocean just before a storm—and reflected in them, the man who didn’t think he deserved to be saved. He wets his lips, but the words get swept away on the shore of his tongue, so he just nods._

_Dean brings them closer together with his other hand on the side of Cas’s neck until he’s hovering just over his mouth. It feels like heavy rainfall on the seam of his mouth when Cas’s gaze falls on Dean’s lips, but Dean’s not going to washed away by lack of courage. Not again. And especially not when Cas’s own hand, the one not tangled with Dean’s, reaches up to cup Dean’s face._

_Then, just like every Big Bad they’ve fought, they put mutual effort in leaning forward until their lips dance to the thunderous drumming of the overhead panels._

_***_

Dean looks up from his study a few days later to Cas at his door, handing him a tape.

“Cas, I told you, it’s a gift,” he says, exasperated.

“I know,” Cas says, “and that’s a gift for you.”

Dean takes a closer look at the tape, flips it over a couple times. It’s unmarked, unlike his. “What is it?” he asks, unable to keep the pinch of annoyance out of his tone.

“Guess you’ll have to listen to find out,” Cas remarks, and Dean swears he sees his mouth quirk up before he slips out of his room like the ghost he’s been these past couple of weeks.

Dean looks at his computer a little while longer before closing it with a sigh. He’s tired anyway—both physically and mentally, so he grabs his Walkman from the nightstand, slips on his headphones, climbs into bed, and presses play.

Cas’s raspy voice cuts through the hisses and pops, and Dean jumps up upon hearing the first line:

“ _All the reasons I’m in love with Dean Winchester, because a top 13 just doesn’t cut it…”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Zeppelin songs referenced: 
> 
> • “Since I’ve Been Loving You”  
> • “Dazed and Confused”  
> • “All My Love”  
> • “The Lemon Song” 
> 
> Thank you to my best friend, a longtime Zeppelin fan, for helping me pick out some of the best. This fic wouldn’t have been possible without her.


End file.
